Laenolin skidded as he round the corner to the balcony, having barely heard Valmyria's assault while keeping soldiers back from joining the duels. He extended his left arm and began focusing his energy toward his hand while walking forward, staring at the man. The would-be new Commander. He glanced aside, seeing a man turn from Arvashok. The Qunari was facing the traitor at the balcony and though there was no emotion, Laenolin could feel the rage welling within the powerful warrior. Whatever the mage could do would take more energy, but likely cause the same result as what Arvashok could create.

He lifted his hand and refocused his intent, sending a bolt of shimmering power straight into Arvashok's back. The Qunari froze, not know what to expect at first. "Saarebas!" He exclaimed before taking time to examine himself. He was still fine. Still himself. But there was a feeling of something more resting within him now. The Qunari turned to glare back at the mage, not happy about the gift, no matter how much of a boon it was. But reprimanding would come later.

Arvashok began walking forward, his long stride closing the distance toward Grashen quickly on its own. He then lunged forward as he ran at the man, growling as he let loose his rage. "Ashkata, dathrasi?! Meravas!" The Qunari dashed forward in a rapid blur as Laenolin's magic took effect. His left hand grasped the traitor's skull and hauled him off his feet. They sailed into the air together as Arvashok jumped from the balcony. He swung the man down toward the ground and took his axe in both hands, aiming it straight down as he fell after the fool human.

{Balcony >> Castle Courtyard}

The impact upon the courtyard unleashed a large shockwave of debris and sheer force. The hefty weapon had cleaved straight through Grashen's torso without any trouble from the chestplate, splitting the man from his own hips and legs. The small crater was filled with his emptying orgasn as Arvashok pulled his weapon from the ground. He gave it one quick swing to loosen the fresh blood and entrails from his blades. "Ashkost say vashedan hissra!" He furiously hissed as his eyes then turned to the soldiers all gathered around the courtyard. He cared little for this foolish battle any longer and his patience for these humans and their games had dwindled to nothing with Grashen's act.

Arvashok again took Astaarit Meraad with both hands. Where he had earlier been holding back in using the weapon with one arm, he cared nothing for restraint. His legs spread out and his hips lowered. His stance closed in as his will and rage began to swell and focus upon his bladed axe. He shot forward and skidded to a stop after swing his weapon in a clean, horizontal swipe. A shot of raw force burst forth to slice through dozens at once and their deaths began to drive the Qunari's thirst for more. He turned his wrists as he held the axe close to his waist once more, swinging out a second time. The new wave of force burst out to his right, killing another dozen men while sending greater amounts flying with the flying bodies.

Arvashok snarled as he turned, looking around to see all he could after nearly clearing the entire courtyard in two swings. He spotted Zha'Gren and his foe, caught in their stalemate. "Zha'Gren, did you see the Commander?!" He called to the darkspawn, almost demanding an answer with his enraged stare alone. Still gripping Astaarit Meraad in both hands, he would finish their fight himself if he so needed.

{Balcony}

Above the courtyard, Laenolin watched on. He had some expectations, but the boost to his ally's prowess was greater than he had thought. ... I haven't seen him this infuriated, though... Traitors must be a very bad subject for him. The mage thought before looking over his shoulder to Vovin and Marcus. "I'd wager this," he paused, waving his hand out over the remaining conflict in the castle, "will be finished shortly now. If you both seek to aid our betrayed Commander, we should try the lower halls while he searches outside." The Dalish fully turned, awaiting the response from both warriors.

Val watched the carnage unfold before her. She was no stranger to death, to the horrors of battle, but this.

This was a slaughter.

And she had to get out of here. Not just because of her life being in danger, this wasn't the first time she had been so close to death. But because she wanted to join. Part of her, that really wasn't her wanted to join the fray. And it scared her.

The elf pulled herself up once more and left the two quietly. Despite their... "appearance" for help, she wasn't exactly at the most trusting of moods at the moment. Valmyria flexed her hand and willed the healing magic to come back. It sputtered back to life for a few moments, but then it died out. She couldn't focus long enough to hold it, there were too many distractions around her and in her to allow the flow of magic. She clutched her wound and looked around for a possible way out. There was a door adjacent to her, and she figured that was her best escape. She opened the door only to find herself in what looked like a old chapel. There was luckily no one in the room for a moment and it was quite.

But her peace didn't last long. The doors on the other side of the chapel opened, and another squad of the Teryn's men entered being lead by a large man wielding a wicked looking spear. She could tell by the bars on his shoulder that this man was some sort of a lieutenant. "That's her! Seize her!" yelled the man.

"Oh, balls," said Val. The elf pulled out her sword and began to move to the other side of the room, keeping the large pews between herself and her pursuers. One man was smart enough to go the other way and intercepted the Warden before she could escape. They crossed blades a few times before Val lashed out with her foot and caught the man in his leg, sending him to the ground. By that time, the others had caught up to her. She brought the Oathkeeper around and up through the chest of a solider who tried to sneak up behind her.

Suddenly though, the blade was knocked out of her hand by what looked like a tomahawk, thrown by the Lieutenant. The blade sailed across the room and crashed through the window. She could hear the sword clang against the stone steps outside in the Courtyard. The Warden leaped out of the fray and ran across the top of the pews to the back of the room. Shouts followed after her and she would have made it out, but the pew underneath her slide out and she tumbled into the next set of pews. The crash knocked the wind out of her and her breathing was painful.

"Gotcha, knife ears," said the Lieutenant.

"Knife ears?" asked one of the men as he walked up. "Sir, those look more like sword ears to me." The group of soldiers laughed a little forcefully as Val slowly stood up and tried to catch her breath. Her hood had fallen down and her blonde hair cascaded around her face. "Norman, Dispose of her." The solider nearest of her charged and shoved the sword forward.

Just like she wanted.

She stepped aside and grabbed a hold of his wrist and sharply twisted it, breaking the mans wrist. Before he even had time to scream out, his sword was in his chest. The Warden grabbed his head and pushed him back. Valmyria glared at the Lieutenant as he barked orders for everyone to attack. Val, now weaponless, twisted and dodged her enemies, and used their own blades to kill each other. Se didn't go without injury though, scrapes, cuts, the occasional lucky hit on her by fist or blade. The blood loss and strain on her had worn the Commander down and the now bloodied floor didn't help anyone. One hit got too close to home.

Val screamed in pain as she felt a blade run down her back. One of the soldiers got a lucky hit. His sword had cut through her quiver, spilling all of her hand made arrows to the floor. It tore her cloak, and she feared damage had occurred to her bow as well as she felt it slip off her back.

Something in her clicked, or broke.

She turned around as the man swung the blade out again, but this time she just stood there, reached up, and caught the blade. Her right arm was now covered in wicked looking black gauntlet, a single red gem glowed from the center of her hand. that same shade of red lightly flashed in her eyes. She tore the sword from the bewildered man's hands and shoved it into the neck of the man next to her. With the black gauntlet, she made a stiff gloved shovel and shoved it into the man's chest. Blood spurted from the wound covering her and the floor.

Val just grinned.

She dropped the body and looked at the Lieutenant. He backed away slowly, spear in hand as she approached him. But she just reached out and yanked it from the man's grip and tossed the weapon to the side. He turned and ran, but the elf tackled him before he even had a chance.

"P-please," he muttered.

"Do you take me for a fool?" hissed Valmyria as she crouched on top of him. She looked crazy at this point. It wasn't just the fact that she was a bloody mess; blood, both her own and that of the men she had just slaughtered dripped off of her. It wasn't that she was reduced to rags, and scuffed armor, nor was it that her once majestic midnight blue cloak was now stain with blood and hung about her in tatters. Neither was it her messy blonde hair, but it was the look in her eyes. Wild, crazy, full of lust. It was The look of pure bloodlust. "You didn't show me mercy a few minutes ago." she commented.

"J-just, following our orders."

"And they just got you killed. What is the Teryn planning?"

"I-I don't kno-" he started, but then cried out in pain as she dug her talons into his shoulder.

"DON'T LIE TO ME," she roared at him. She picked the man up and slammed him into the alter. He was sobbing now, holding his hands up to protect his face as she pulled out his own dagger and slammed it into his shoulder and twisted the knife around. He screamed as loud as he could as tears rolled down his face. "WHAT IS THE PLAN? WHERE IS THE TERYN?" she yelled back at him as she slammed the knife into the other shoulder and the man cried out again. "SPEAK!"

Knight-Captain Gregor - Deacon

Deacon's words insulted him. He was a simple man playing the role of vigilante. He might still stand for a force of good in the world, which was the reason why Gregor didn't order his men to capture him in the first place. Clearly a mistake now that he thought back on it.

But this man was not a Templar. He was not his brother.He didn't see the dangers that a "" mage possessed to the world. It wasn't the blood magic, it was the demons of the Fade that brought out the fear. that reason is why the Templars often used harsh tactics against the mages, the reason why they showed little mercy to them. Respect was still there, and the Templars had care for the mages under their care. But they had to defend these mages from the outside world, and the outside world from them.

A battle on two fronts. Enemies were friends and friends enemies. Very stressful work environment.

"He lives in peace for now, but sooner or later the Templars or the Rangers will find him and place him under custody," replied Gregor. "You don't understand the purpose of the Templars nor the threat unregistered mages pose to everyone. As for my Trump Card, as you put it... All in good time Deacon. All in good time. It is sufficient for me to say that if I do play it, no one is leaving this place alive."

Gregor looked around the courtyard and noticed the status of the battle. His forces were moving well and holding better than he thought. But it was the others that he worried about; the "mercenaries" Cousland had so richly bribed. He hadn't heard no seen very much of them since the invasion started and none of the support teams he sent had checked back in. What worried him is that they had a change of heart.

"Now then Deacon," he said looking over at his former friend, hatred building up in his eyes. "I'm going to kill you."

The Templar rushed the other one, and brought the great blade around to bear, but instead of swinging it at the man, he slammed it again into the dirt and used its momentum to fling himself at Deacon. He slammed both of his armored boots into Deacon's chest plate...

TERYN COUSLAND - Denerim.

Teryn Cousland drummed his fingers on the table as he watched the Battle of Redcliffe unfold from within a large basin. A spell of enchantment on a Tranquil allowed him to see the battle unfold from his eyes. A Tranquil was a special mage, one whose connections with the Fade and been severed, and in effect also their emotions. They were perfect for observations like this. A highly powerful enchantment could be surgically implanted into them without killing them or driving them mad. It was handy. But it only gave him a general view of the battlefield unless he commanded the Tranquil to move in closer which was an option he couldn't afford. the damned idiot would get killed.

"This is getting good," he remarked to no one in particular. The battle was in full swing, and he had just seen the fight between Vovin and Valmyria. she was a stunning lady, he had to admit that. And the Dragon Knight was very powerful and skilled. He was disappointed in Grashen. The fool had moved too early and might have jeopardized everything.

But it didn't matter to him. Everything was going according to plan.

He had hopes of a higher, more favorable outcome for him, but either way this battle went, it was a win-win for him. A sudden burst of magic, faint, but detectible through his link caused him to frown. That bitch had passed it on, no matter. He had prepared for this.

"Kassar, come here," said the Teryn. "I need you to deliver some letters for me before we leave."

“Hahahahah…hahhahahaha…” a deep and contorted chuckle came from deep within the stone knight’s helmet as he stared down at the pronged blades that were pointed at his head. He had never fought a darkspawn before and although he had heard stories about them he had never heard of any he would consider a threat one on one. However here he stood, locked in a stalemate with this darkspawn warrior in the middle of a battlefield that he wanted no part of, fate was such a twisted thing sometime. Bill had no intention of dying in this battle, there was still something he needed to do before he could allow that to happen. The taste of his own blood now filled his mouth as the crimson liquid from his forehead reached down to his lips.

“I could smash your head like a melon right now freak… but then I’d be full ‘o holes in some uncomfortable places…what to do” he was smiling beneath the helmet, a bloody crazed smile upon his face as he stared death right in the eyes. Even if he wanted no part of this battle and was dragged here because of a debt he owed, Bill could never resist the thrill of the fight. Bloodlust was intoxicating for a man like him, death was the last thing upon the man’s mind but killing wasn’t. Zha could probably feel the grip of the man’s hand begin to tighten, however just as they were about to deliver each other a final blow a loud rumble echoed throughout the courtyard. It was the sound of a gigantic soldier coming crashing down into the courtyard a good distance away from the two fighters, however the impact was strong enough for both to feel. The rumble set off a chain reaction, with the fires blazing within the castle there wasn’t much left holding the whole thing together.

Zha could now probably feel the heat of the flames begin to escape the wall from behind him, while Bill could see the smoke and cracking begin to spread along the wall. This caused Bill to snap back to his senses, his will to survive returned as he lifted his leg up and pressed his foot to the wall. The stone knight pushed away from the wall with all his might in an instant but the weight of the heavy man’s boot caused things to become even worse for the two warriors. Bill was able to push himself away from the breaking wall, however the action itself caused the wall to crumble much sooner than expected. He cursed as he felt Zha’s skull slip back from his fingers, then cursed again as the trident nearly took out one of his eyes, only being saved by both of the warrior’s respective backward falls. All hell broke loose as flames, smoke, and a large portion of crumbling stone wall came down upon the two fighters.

…It took a few moments for Bill to regain his senses, he could feel a heavy weight upon himself however it didn’t appear that he had been hurt from the falling debris. The man pushed himself upwards with some effort, rising up amidst a pile of burning rubble. His armor had managed to take the brunt of the collapse, large sections of the stone paste had been knocked away from pieces of the wall. The heat from the smoke and flames that now began to fill the courtyard were what bothered him the most, in a while the whole area would be covered and completely impossible to escape from. For a moment Bill looked back towards where the wall had been, not seeing any signs of what happened to the darkspawn warrior he had been fighting.

“Tch… damnit…” the stone knight cursed under his breath as he began to trudge off and away from the flames that were now spreading throughout the courtyard. Bill stopped for a brief second, looked down at an oddly shaped pile of rubble and pulled out from it the dragon tooth that he had dropped earlier. This battle had become a bigger mess than he had first anticipated, he figured it was now time to find Marcus and make their escape before the flames tore the whole place apart.

-Airi-

She was not very familiar with the layout of the castle just yet, Airi had managed to memorize most of the basic floor plans however it soon became apparent that the battle had taken its toll. Walls were torn down, soldiers filled the halls, it was mass chaos wherever the girl turned. It was much more difficult to figure things out under pressure like this, however the elf mage managed to venture throughout the castle without running into any unnecessary troubles. She took care not to run into anymore soldiers, there was no telling how much fighting she would need to do in order to escape, so she decided to avoid any combat that wasn’t absolutely needed.

Airi peered around the corner of a hallway, hearing distinct sounds of battle coming from a room nearby. The mage girl carefully approached the room, not wanting to be noticed as she passed by. Her eyes peered into a room that looked something like an old chapel, however at that moment there was only one thing that the girl had noticed. It took a good amount of willpower for the girl to not yell out towards the warden commander, it was such a relief to the young elf to see her still alive… though something about the situation seemed a bit off. Of course Airi noticed that Val was injured, however at that instant she couldn’t help but feel a hint of fear creep down her spine. Something about the way that she looked frightened the girl on a very primal level. Despite this nagging fear in her bones the girl pushed herself forwards, coming out of her hiding spot and into the commander’s vision.“Lady Windstrider… you’re badly wounded, let me help you…” Airi said, a trace of fear lingered in her voice but her concern was very genuine for the warden commander. After all, Val had for a long time been one of Airi’s personal idols, seeing her all torn up like this wasn’t an easy sight for the girl.

The impact dented Deacon's chestplate, the Templar chestplate that was all that remained of that part of his life. He took this almost like a knife in his side. Angry, he locked himself to the ground, and grabbed hold of Gregor's legs. "You know, Gregor..." Deacon looked at the man with a twisted grin. "You should really learn something new..." Moving aside quickly, he pulled the Templar towards him, taking him away from his beloved sword, before grabbing his head and slamming it downwards. With his hand over Gregor's face, the Knight-Captain attempted to pull it off, but this only made Deacon push his hand down harder.

"I had held back for the sake of our friendship... but if you insist upon slaughtering these people..." Deacon spoke as he brought his dagger to Gregor's throat. "...then death is all that awaits you." At that moment, the window behind him shattered as a sword pushed through it. On the other side he could make out two women, one badly wounded. Deacon brought his face to Gregor's ear to whisper. "I will let you keep your head a little longer... But know this, old friend: Though I may not be the Templar you once knew... you will always be my brother... Momenti vitae..." With that, he let Gregor go, and dove through the window.

As he reached the other side, the ground shook with the force of an earthquake. The tremor caused the wall to collapse, blocking the path back to the courtyard. With that out of the way, he faced the two women in the room. One appeared to be an elvish mage. The other, also an elf, was wounded, with tattered clothing that made it difficult to tell who she was. However, an aura around her told Deacon to proceed with caution. He pulled out his last potion to offer to them. "Are you two... alright?" He was panting heavily... the blow to his chest was still aching and painful.

It was only after looking closely that he could see things more clearly. The wounded one had one of the Teryn's men on the altar, her arm covered in some form of armor he had never seen, embedded in the man's shoulder. He could sense her intense desire to kill the man, as well as a bloodlust that was making his body shiver. He did not intervene. As a fact, he could not intervene; he had almost nothing left. Deacon stumbled backwards, barely able to stand after his duel with the Knight-Captain. He cursed under his breath as his potion slipped out of his hands and rolled along the floor towards the woman. Whatever was to come next, he would be helpless against it. "All I wanted was some warm food and a nice bed... Shit, this simply isn't my day..."

Vovin barely had time to step aside before the massive Qunari tackled the man that the Dragon Knight had all but killed already off of the balcony and into the turmoil below. Whatever floated his boat, Vovin thought. That wasn't all that was on the young man's mind. The slight uncertainty he had felt back at the Teryn's palace had erupted into full blown doubt. Despite the fact that she could have been lying, the surprise on Valmyria's face and in her voice had struck a chord in Vovin when he had confronted her about the Darkspawn. And when this Grashen character had shown up and betrayed her...it had been the final straw.

Vovin stared after the Qunari his father had just been fighting before turning to the old man. Ignoring his insistence on going after Val for the moment, Vovin all but shouted."Marcus....what the HELL is going on? I don't know know who to trust or where my allegiance is supposed to be. The Warden Commander didn't seem to know anything about the Darkspawn...and...and YOU!" Vovin's eyes suddenly became sharp through the haze of confusion he was experiencing. He stalked toward Marcus, pointing at him as he spoke. "YOU know her! What is that all about? You didn't seem like you were in a hurry to attack her like we were supposed to. Is there anything else I should know or are you all out of secrets?" Vovin threw up his hands and turned away from his mentor. His posture retained his anger for a few more seconds before his shoulders slumped. Bringing a hand up to massage his eyes, the young man continued with "I just...sorry. That was uncalled for. Lets just go after the Warden Commander." Vovin turned to face the newcomer mage. "Sorry, you had to see that. I will come with you."

Last edited by Draken30000 on Thu Aug 01, 2013 9:32 am, edited 1 time in total.

He was... Falling.Falling where? Falling down, clearly, but from where and to where was what occupied his mind for a brief moment as the mountain and the fires collapsed the wall that had caused the stalemate, now the only thing keeping them from killing one another. Not for a lack of trying though. Zha'Gren managed to jab outwards with his trident but met air. Lots of air.

Apparently the only thing behind this wall was a wooden staircase leading down into the dungeons, dungeons the staircase didn't reach because they had been smashed to kindling by something. Something big, or maybe from not being used over many many years. Either way about it, there was a long way down and the only company was the stones. As he fell over the edge and down in, it was like everything had slowed down.

One...Two...Three...

Snapping out of his stupor, Zha'Gren quickly pulled out a curved dagger and struck the wall with everything left in his arm. The ride down ended with shoulder-dislocating force as the dagger stuck fast in the stone wall, the air knocked out of his lungs as his chest thumped hard against wall with his momentum. Instinct forced the hunter to make a desperate last-minute leap from the wall, and found he had chosen rightly. Nearly 7 flights of free-fall awaited him downwards, and a small ledge jutting out the farside offered the only escape.

It wasn't long before Zha'Gren slammed his arm into the wall, painfully relocating his arm in its socket. A small miracle in itself truth be told. The question was how to get out. A few doorways on each level offered a decent chance, but Boulder thing was up top. Up top was where Valmyria likely was. If he'd understood the Qunari well it would mean she was in trouble with no allies to call on readily. A betrayal of heinous magnitude must have occurred to make the massive warrior fly into such a rage. He would find his way out eventually. He would settle the fight with William O'Dim soon enough. For now, he sat. In the lightless tunnel he sat, listening to the sound of battle and the scrape of... Something. He'd find out soon enough.

----------------------------------

Marcus Hammerstrike.

Draken30000 wrote:Vovin all but shouted."Marcus....what the HELL is going on? I don't know know who to trust or where my allegiance is supposed to be. The Warden Commander didn't seem to know anything about the Darkspawn...and...and YOU!" Vovin's eyes suddenly became sharp through the haze of confusion he was experiencing. He stalked toward Marcus, pointing at him as he spoke. "YOU know her! What is that all about? You didn't seem like you were in a hurry to attack her like we were supposed to. Is there anything else I should know or are you all out of secrets?" Vovin threw up his hands and turned away from his mentor. His posture retained his anger for a few more seconds before his shoulders slumped. Bringing a hand up to massage his eyes, the young man continued with "I just...sorry. That was uncalled for. Lets just go after the Warden Commander."

Marcus strapped the great warhammer back in its proper place across his back, readjusting his smithing hammer and single battle hammer on the belt loops as he listened to Vovin fume. It was natural to feel the way he did, in the midst of his first real taste of battle. Of blood, sweat, and murder. Of betrayal. The order never had anything like that because everyone was so close and friendly, having most been raised in that very castle and never truly leaving it for any serious amount of time. Everything was new to him, even the idea of secrets. How sheltered he seemed.

The red embers of his pipe lit up the old mans face as he exhaled the thick smoke, drifting lazily away. "I told you Vovin. We do not make choices rashly and without thought, it's madness to do otherwise." Both arms crossed over his broad chest, otherwise unblemished in the brief encounter with the Qunari. "How long have I traveled the world, Boy? How many years do you think I have walked my roads. Surely I've met a few people along the way, I'm a blacksmith by trade. Taught you better than to think so crudely." He scolded, another great puff of his pipe helped to ease him, as it so often did. His restlessness was not on Vovin but the war around him. "The wardens fight the Darkspawn, not use them. To often are the creatures mindless murderers, eyes only for chaos and destruction. I met Valmyria Windstrider when she was a young ranger, instead of the Warden Commander she is now, a ranger in need of equipment. I may not have known when you signed up that she was the commander but I learned quick enough who was in charge. You can only learn by making a mistake, Vovin." It struck him as odd that he didn't use the word 'son' when referring to the young man in front of him. He was not ashamed of him, never that in a thousand lifetimes. It struck him as.. rude. To suddenly force the idea of himself as a father to the boy now would only infuriate him further.

Marcus punched Vovin in the shoulder lightly, a chuckle escaping him. He spoke with not a thimble of bitterness, instead with pride. "You need never apologize to me. We all lose our tempers, it is what we do with the anger that matters. You have learned, I hope, that it is wise to act with wisdom than with our pride?" A nod was all the blacksmith needed to give an uncustomary smile. "We will find Valmyria and right the wrongs done today. that, or die repenting for the sins of youth." A pat on the back and they were off in search of the elusive Warden commander. Marcus doubted it would be all that difficult to find her.

The pale and hornless Vashoth, steps to Teryn Cousland, as he says,"Of course, me lord. Who will be the recipients?"

Kassar was a street rat only a few weeks ago, ever since the opportunity to become so close to such a person in power presented itself to him, he's been attempting his best to keep it. He notices the mistakes in his speech, but ignores them, for now he has a more pressing problem. In his head, he recites the names of those that he was told to remember, as well as their whereabouts.

She couldn't hear them. She wouldn't have cared for them if she could. She did notice them but all of her focus, her intent was hell bent on this pathetic, whimpering, sweaty man that suffered before her.

Blood pounded in her ears. Adrenaline raced through her veins. All she could see was red. It was power. Pure and sweet like the finest honey... and it felt so damn good. Valmyria wanted nothing more than to rip out the throat of the man who suffered beneath her. She wanted to join him with his comrades who were strewn about the room lying in pools of their own blood and gore.

But she couldn't, she needed to know things.

The man glanced past the elf to the others. "P-please, h-hel- Gahhhh!" he tried to say, but Val pulled the knife out and shoved it into his shoulder again.

"Look at me." she said softly, but the man refused to look at her. Instead his eyes looked towards the other people in the room, and he tried to reach out to them with a shaky hand.

"LOOK AT ME," roar Valmyria as she slammed her newly armored hand into the altar, leaving a sizable dent. This snapped the Lieutenant back to her and he stared up at her with fearful eyes. Part of her was beginning to feel horrified at what was happening, regret for what she did. But the dominant part right now was thrilled in it, enjoyed it. She smiled at him, which caused him to cringe at the sight of the mad elf, but she ignored it and continued on. "Tell me what I need to know," she whispered and dragged one of her talons down the side of his face, leaving a long bleeding wound. "Tell me, and I'll make all the pain go away."

"W-w-what?"

Her talons continued down to the man's breast plate, and slide across the metal. The chapel vibrated with the screeching noise of metal on metal. "What is the Teryn doing?" she asked calmly. The tone, more than anything freaked the man out more as his eyes darted about the room and started hyperventilating. "W-wh... Please, I don't know anything. I'm jus- ARGH." Val's taloned hand dug into the chest plate, and crunched the metal covering the area above his heart. It didn't kill him but it did scrap his skin, showing him that it wasn't going to keep him safe.

"Following Orders? I know, we've been over this issue already," she said. "Let's try something new, Lieutenant." The Commander twisted the knife again and applied some more pressure. The man screamed his curses to the Maker as the blade scraped against bone. "Why are you here?"

"W-what?"

"SAY WHAT ONE MORE TIME MOTHER FUCKER, I DOUBLE DARE YOU." Val raised the her armored fist and slammed it against the man's stomach, cracking the armor and knocking the wind out of him. He tried to curl up in a ball, but the elf slammed her hand against his leg and he straighten back out. the man was sobbing and gasping for air. She noticed a damp spot at the crotch of his pants and rolled her eyes. Embarrassing. Val waited for a second with a bored look on her face, to let the man regain whatever dignity he had left.

"Why was Redcliffe Castle attack? Why are you after me?" the man started to shake his head, eyes red and still full of tears. "You think I don't know? I grow tired of your games" Valmyria raised her talons into the air, ready to strike with deadly force - "No! W-wait, please!" he shrieked between the sobs. "I-it was a d-distraction... P-p-please... D-dun't Kill me!"

"From what?"

"I-I don't k- GAHHH, OH FUCKING SWEET MAKER, AHHHH!" Val had shoved the knife all the way through the man's shoulder. It had broken through the bone and his flesh. She leaped on top of altar and grabbed the man by his chestplate, lifting him up slightly. "What was the distraction for?" she yelled over the man's screams. "I-I don't know!" he wailed. "I'm just a solider!" Val gripped the man around the throat with her free hand, and set the talon's tips above his heart. "Where is the Teryn then? You were going to meet up after this, where is the rendezvous point!?!"

He shook his head man times. "N-no, e-escap-."

TERYN COUSLAND - DENERIM

The Teryn sighed as he kept watching. Poor, stupid Gregor. He allowed it to become personal, and instead of finishing off his enemy, he played with them. Of course the dog is going to bit back, you retard, he thought.

"Kassar, good to see you lad," he said, not taking his eyes off the basin. "This right here my boy. A spell is allowing me to see a battle that is taking place far away from here, and everything is going perfect... but it's coming to a close here in a bit." The Teryn pushed away from the table and walked over to the nearby desk. He picked up four sealed letters and checked that they were good before walking back.

"We have somethings we need to do before we leave and return to Highever," he stated. "I need you to deliver these orders to some of my men and allies stationed in the city. Captain Dupoint, who should be at the city gates. Revered Mother Hannah at the Chantry. Arl Wilhelms at his Denerim Estate. And then take this one to "Tom" at the The Pearl, just had it to the bartender and say its for Tom."

The Teryn handed off the letters and glanced back into the basin. Still nothing major, but the Trump Card should go off any moment now."

"Scribe?" he asked when he looked up at the elderly man behind the desk on the other side of the room. "Anything else for today?"

The old man looked at a large list and then back up at the Teryn. "I believe sir, that today is you day to plot imminent destruction to all who oppose your iron-fisted control and back breaking taxation?"

(No post as Valas for now. Will make something when it is more.. important.)

A young servant knocked on the door to the Teryn's scrying room. The Teryn did not look up from his scrying device. "Enter." The young servant slipped into the room, careful to make little noise and shutting the door quietly behind him. He was polite and to the point. "Excuse my interruption sir. The mages have instructed me to tell you that they have prepared to send Cyrus.. If the master so desires." Sweat creased his brows at the thought of telling the Golem it was not allowed to leave.

Airi had never really met Val before recently, however she already knew a lot about the newly appointed warden commander. She idolized the woman ever since she was younger, always striving to follow in her footsteps. It was one of the reasons why she joined the rangers at such a young age, why she worked so hard to keep up with such a person. However the Valmyria that she saw before her was not the same person whose shadow she had been in for so long. Something was wrong with this situation, or at least that was what Airi wanted to believe at the bottom of her heart. The girl’s eyes darted towards a window of the chapel as another soldier came into the room. She raised her staff defensively, however it quickly became apparent that he wasn’t a threat. Airi didn’t trust anything at this point, however there were more pressing matters at hand than to worry about Deacon. The girl silently waved a hand towards the man, as if to try and tell him not to interfere. She knelt down and picked up the potion, forcing a smile upon her face as she nodded towards Deacon.

“Thank you… for now could you make sure that no one else enters? I have a feeling that something isn’t right… and I’m going to try to fix it…” the girl said as the smile faded from her face, she then slipped the potion into a pouch and turned to face Valmyria. Airi slowly approached the warden commander, her muscles tense as she watched the woman torture her victim. That wasn’t like Val, or at least not from what she knew about the woman. A small part of Airi had to feel bad for the soldier as Val continued to punish him, she knew that this had to stop now. The mage set her hand upon the wounded soldier’s forehead, she knew that she was putting herself at risk but at that moment she didn’t care, she just wanted to snap Valmyria out of her rage. She put the man to sleep, hoping that at the very least Val would now turn her attention to herself.“M-my lady, that’s enough… we neat to treat your wounds…” Airi said as she looked at the commander, she did well in hiding her fear from the other woman, at least at that moment.

Deacon thanked the Maker, as the furious one had not seen fit to move her aggressions towards him. The other elf, the mage, was obviously more calm and accepted his potion, before asking him to guard the entrance. He was still exhausted, but at the very least, he had had a chance to catch his breath. The wounded one was still willing to fight, so he had no right to complain. After all, he was never one to turn down a young woman's request. "Sure... No problem..." He slowly moved through the room, taking care not to provoke the wounded one. As he reached the doorway, he looked around and saw that, for the moment, they were alone.

He put his back against the doorway, taking this chance to further recover while keeping watch. He watched the wounded one as she tortured the poor sod in front of her. The man barely seemed to know anything, other than the basic layout of the Teryn's plan. He wanted to stop her, until he heard the man's last words. They confirmed what Gregor had told him, and that they were running out of time. The young one put the man to sleep, an obvious act of mercy, before attempting to tell the wounded one that her recovery was a priority. Deacon decided to add something himself. "Your friend is right, ma'am, those wounds are deep." He took a deep, painful breath as he spoke. "It would be best... if we found a way out of here soon. The Teryn is planning something here... and I have an idea what it is. I believe that something... has been moved into the castle... by the enemy forces. I encountered their commanding officer... though I was not able to find out their plan." All of this talking was starting to hurt like Hell, he may have had a cracked rib or two.

"However... he did tell me... that if the plan succeeded... no one would make it out of this castle alive."

Zasalim kept an eye out for dangerous wildlife or any other troublesome scenario or situation that could occur along the road and the path less traveled as they continued through the wooded area. Teelo's little hunting venture kind of reminded him that he was probably walking with the most dangerous creature of the wilds next to a Dragon. He couldn't fathom how the boy could eat raw dripping flesh as he was accustomed to doing. It made his stomach turn a bit, but this was the only way Teelo knew how to survive and far be it for him to tell the young shapeshifter otherwise. He was thinking of offering to cook the rabbit over an open flame, but Teelo simply stuffed the kill into his sack for consumption later. He did notice a slight reaction from the feral elf hybrid to the name of the Old elven god of trickery, but nothing came of it.

As they walked onward, Zasalim couldn't help but wonder about the allies he left in Redcliffe. He pondered on their fates, and the course of the battle that encompassed the large, proud village. His pondering ceased as he truly thought about it though. He'd seen and fought along the Warriors of the Grey on quite a few occasions and they where fierce combatants, more than a match for most and each exceptionally skilled. The spawn among them would thrive in such chaos, might even find some worthy prey. He wanted nothing more from him than to continue their battle at some point, but this required his survival as well. More than that though, they were fearless survivors. What troubled him more than anything about it was the aftermath and people of Redcliffe. This incident would sow the seeds of deceit and mistrust among the people and possibly isolate them as they'd strive to rebuild once the dust settles. Even so, these were not issues he would spend too much thought on as he had his own problems to deal with back home between the Quel'Elhen and Dalish elves. That was more reason he hoped Valmyria would survive this whole ordeal.

None the less he pressed forward in the name of coin and possibly new allies in the surface dwarves. Many sold their wares and their skills around Fereldan and one could never get in good with too many people. As he saw it, the more allies he could attain the better off he'd be for his sake and that of his people.

-En route to Chapel-(Note: Vovin retrieved his helmet, it is now tied to his armor at the waist.)As the trio hurried through the decaying castle, Vovin couldn't help but feel some relief at the fact that Marcus was not fed up with him. To anyone else the brief spat they had had would have been fairly minor, but Vovin had little experience with such things. To him, lashing out at Marcus had been a distressing act, and he was glad that his...father...and he seemed to be on good terms again. The thought of Marcus and father together as one felt strange in his head. With time, perhaps he would grow accustomed to it. As they continued to navigate the halls, Vovin glanced towards their new companion.

"I know this may not be the best time for introductions, but have we met before? My name is Vovin Dranis, of the Draconis Order." Vovin stated. The face seemed familiar but Vovin was unsure. Regardless, at that moment he heard a pained scream coming from a nearby hallway. "This way!" he exclaimed dashing towards the sound. It could have been some dying warrior, but some instinct spoke to the young Dragon Knight, telling him that this was the way he should seek. He came to a doorway, and heard yet another scream and voices sounding from beyond it. Vovin pushed against the door but something resisted him. He pushed again, harder, but the door was being blocked. "Fine then." he muttered to himself, taking several steps back. The doorway looked tall enough for him to pull this off. Vovin suddenly dashed at the door and leaped at it. Right as he was about to collide, he let out a Dragon Surge. "GrrrRAHH!" He snarled as the wood of the door all but exploded in his wake. Vovin erupted into the chapel, passing over Deacon and likely knocking him down in the process. Rolling to reduce the impact, Vovin quickly righted himself and took in the scene.

-Chapel-

Valmyria was holding and apparently torturing a man who was now...dead? No, Vovin could see the rise and fall of his chest, he lived. But a righteous fire was stirred up in Vovin, and he took a step forward. However, it was then he noticed the other woman in the room, and remembered why he was here. He immediately raised his hands in a non-threatening way. Still looking at Val, Vovin spoke.

"Warden Commander Valmyria Windstrider. This time I bear no ill will towards you. After that incident on the balcony and a few words between myself and some others, I have come to the conclusion that you are indeed a victim in this. I apologize for my actions earlier." Vovin's eyes darted to the man she had been tormenting. "However. Your actions as of right now are...unnerving."

She couldn't believe the... audacity of this woman. Who the hell did she and this other person, this man think they were? Her she was finding out critical information from this stubborn enemy, and they dare interrupt her? Perhaps I did take it a bit far...

Valmyria's ears twitched out of annoyance, and her grip on the now unconscious man's armor tightened to the point that her knuckles popped. She dropped the man back onto the altar, his blood dripping off the top a little bit. She was angry, annoyed... confused, and hurt. But her rage found new focus. This defiant woman in front of her. The Warden-Commander glared at the woman, her own eyes glazed with inhuman hate. Oh how she wanted to kill this woman where she stood. Her and that man behind her. Val could almost imagine it and the pleasure it would contain. She licked her lips at the thought of how sweet it would be to dig into their flesh, tear them apart. Perhaps they were lovers, and that thought made it even better.

It would be easy, five seconds top. She had just dispatched a group of soldiers as if they were nothing.

But something held her back. Some sort of thought, some sort of force in deep within her blood drunken mind held the commander where she stood. Even prevented her from laying hands on the elf, even though every muscle in her body tensed to go into action. "Why did you do such a thing," she asked calmly, her rage subsiding a little bit. "And you, human! Tell me what we want to know or you'll be up next!" she said gesturing to the blood stained altar. "Who lead these forces, where is the man, and what do you know of this?"

But before anything could happen, the door he was covering exploded outward and into the chapel. In entered a man in black armor that resembled a knight, someone she knew, some one she hated. The sight of him caused her blood to boil again.

"YOU!" she screamed as she caught sight of the Dragon Knight. " YOU SEEK ANOTHER REMATCH, ANOTHER CHANCE TO KILL ME? SO BE IT. I AM GOING TO FUCKING RIP YOUR HEART OUT AND SHOW IT TO YOUR DYING EYES." Val probably looked like she had been lost in the woods for three weeks and getting in constant fights with wolves and bears instead of the tired and hurt woman the Knight had seen a few minutes ago.

The woman yelled at both of them, seemingly ignoring the words of both of them. She demanded that he tell her what he knew. But just as he was about to speak again, the door he rested on burst, knocking him to the ground. Great... Just when I'd caught my damn breath... He looked to the door to see a man in armor adorned in the manner of a dragon, claiming that "this time" he was not an enemy. What the hell did he mean by that? It didn't matter, as hearing him speak told Deacon who this woman was. The Warden-Commander, Valmyria Windstrider... the woman Gregor was after. He knew about as much as anyone regarding her reputation, but her actions did not seem to befit such a description.

She, of course, refused to listen to the man, threatening to rip him apart... Deacon never did like misunderstandings... "That..." Deacon rose to his feet, faced Valmyria, and spoke his mind. "...is ENOUGH! YOU ARE SO EAGER TO SHED BLOOD THAT YOUR DAMNED EARS REFUSE TO WORK! YOU ARE THE WARDEN-COMMANDER! IF WE HAVE ANY CHANCE OF GETTING OUT OF THIS, THEN YOU CANNOT AFFORD TO ACT ON CLOUDED JUDGEMENT!" Blood began to slowly run from his nose. The fall, not to mention all of that damn yelling, had aggravated his chest injury.

He felt as if he had just beckoned Death itself to come and embrace him. No matter, he had to diffuse the situation, or they were all in trouble. Slowly, he moved towards the man in armor with his hand on his chest. He then saw that two more men were behind him. If he was wrong about this, then he was damn-well fucked. "You... you claim to be a former enemy... Were you a part of the Teryn's forces?" He clenched his chest as he spoke. "If so, and you have truly defected... then you must help us... The Te-Ngh!" The pain was becoming unbearable... He could feel it; one of his ribs was broken, and was on the verge of puncturing his lung. Despite this, he decided to continue speaking. "...The Teryn is planning something... He has moved something into the castle... If you... if any of you know what or where it is... you must tell us... Please..." Deacon slowly began to fall forward, the pain having gotten the better of him.

In a dark alley, Kassar eats an apple he picked up during his delivery to the Chantry as he thinks about his mini adventure around the city. He's a bit disappointed that none of the guards at the city gates recognized him, he wanted to show off his little connection. Arl Wilhelms wanted to give him a tour of the Denerim Estate, which he refused. As he looks to the bag in his other hand, he remembers the strange visit to The Pearl.

At The Pearl, he had given and named 'Tom'. He had a heart attack when the bartender asked which Tom, "Damn bartender, as if I didn't have enough to worry about." He thanked the Maker that the bartender was just joking. The bartender gave him a bottle that looked so expensive, he felt that his own presence diminished its value, the man also gave him a free pint, which he enjoyed. He wondered if he should keep the bottle of what he believes to be wine. He wasn't sure if the bottle was meant for the Teryn, seeing as it must be worth more than everything he's ever owned and stolen tripled.

The Teryn smiled at the servant's report. "Good, this pleases me greatly," he said without looking up from the basin. Things were indeed about to get good, he noticed a green flare shoot up into the sky. The signal has been sent and the final act was about to begin. His card had a purpose, but Cyrus had another. He had agonized over where to send Cyrus for days, but the solution had slowly come to him.

"Tell Cyrus and the mages that the time is not yet ready for deployment," ordered the Teryn. "I will personally come down to tell them when the time is right to move." That should please the golem enough that the servant will still live. For now though, he had to see if this will play out as he hoped.

Knight-Captain Gregor: Trump Card, activate!

Gregor pushed himself up and shouted after Deacon, but the man was too late. Deacon had already dived through the window and into the castle chapel. Gregor cursed to himself as five of his best men came into a defensive square around him. The fifth one grabbed Gregor by the arm and pulled the Templar up. He handed Gregor his two handed sword and gave the Captain a report. "Captain, from what we have found out so far, all of the support teams have been eliminated. The Warden Commander is still alive and we believe she has more help then previously reported."

Gregor nodded in response and signaled to a mage on the roof. The mage nodded in acknowledgement and fired off a green flare into the sky. The Captain could hear the rumble of thunder. "Let's go," he said. The six men ran off the battlefield, tearing off their purple arm bands as they went. Now they looked like your ordinary Templar. Save covered in blood. Gregor knew these men well and the responses that they would give if asked. They already had horses and provisions in place a few miles from here. They would travel to Lothering and join up with the Chantry there. then they would move up to Denerim in a few days and then onwards to Highever.

He had planned this already, he was not about to die. Not while Deacon still drew breath. It wasn't quite the Teryn's plan, but it would have to work...

The clouds had gathered over the castle, darkening the sky and blotting out the sun. Thunder crashed from above as lightening danced about. The castle moaned as it continued to burn, some of the fires had been successfully put out, while others had come under control. The forces of the Teryn, badly diminished from the fight still held back, but were losing. Some considered the battle already over.

Oh how terribly wrong they were.

From the depths of the castle, one could hear the slow grinding of steel on steel as gates were opened up.

At first there was no sound, but then came then noises of stirring movements. Metal shifting, feet moving. Out of the darkness came the slow shrieks, screams, and then echoed roars for blood. The castle trembled as the terror it contained moved as one towards the surface.

The gates, hatches, doors, tunnels, anything that lead into the depths of the castle burst open and the creatures born from the nightmares and fears of men swarmed the keep. Their very eyes were a soulless black, their armor spiked and wicked looking, and they screamed for the blood of men.

Darkspawn. Thousands of years ago, the magisters, Mage rulers of the Tevinter Imperium, devised a plan to go into the Realm of the Fade and gain access to the legendary Golden City. This city was the home of the Maker, a symbol of the power, might, and purity of the God who created Thedas. The mages were successful in reaching the Golden City, but they were not prepared. Their own sins and corruption infected the Holy City, turning it black and in turn they were cast out and turned into the hideous monsters we now today as Darkspawn.

These creatures knew no kindness, nor mercy. They were as much of a force of nature as the wind, or the storms of the sea. Uncontrollable, untamed. They lusted forth with a single purpose.

Death to all before them.

The men from both sides forgot their ill will towards each other and bound together to fight off the invading horde. they would hold their own for a while, but this horde had many bodies to spare.

Every type was present in massive amounts. The short, but sturdy Genlock rushed forward in their own cannonfolder way. Huge Hurlocks, heavily armed and armored, waded through the combat acting like shock troopers and commanders of the horde. A single Omega Hurlock, clad in heavy almost golden armor stood on the ruins of a cart and bellowed orders out to his fellow darkspawn. Shrieks, long limbed and fast opponents scaled the walls and began to kill archers and mages that were up there. The Darkspawn in turn began to place their own Archers and mages, known as emissaries.

But the horde wasn't done as its most fear weapon came forth. Mighty Ogres. Four of them. Their hides were thick, claws sharp, and their powerful muscles carried them through the feild of combat, crushing anything in their way. They moved forward with strength, acting like living siege weapons.

All of these darkspawn were different though. Their armor didn't appear to be so crudely built, but much better and still retaining their wicked appearance. They all wore more armor then usual and their weapons were put together well. Even the ogres bore more armor than usual, but one ogre stood out differently from the others. It was huge, larger by a meter than the other ones and clad in thick, heavy armor. It roared its own challenge and plowed into the resistance nearest to it.

Deacon caught himself using the shoulder of the man in front of him. He slowly pulled himself to a nearby wall, where he slid to the floor. One of the three men, a mage, approached him without a word, and put his hand on Deacon's chest. "What are yo- ARGGH!" The mage pushed on Deacon's chest seeking the source of his pain. Having found it, he slowly began to apply healing magic. The pain subsided as Deacon could feel his rib slowly realign and reconnect. "Thank you, I am in your debt." When he was done, the mage stood up, gave a small nod, and returned to the others.

Deacon stood up himself, reinvigorated and revived. As he was about to repeat his inquiry to the knight, a freezing chill ran down his spine. The presence he had previously sensed had become active. He rushed over one of the windows that remained, and felt the breath leave his body. Darkspawn... hundreds, perhaps thousands of them. They had begun to swarm over the castle like a plague... "We're too late..." Deacon moved away from the glass, to avoid drawing any attention, then looked to the others. "Darkspawn are swarming the castle. There's hundreds of them... This... This must be their Trump Card." He walked to the alter, which was bathed in the blood of many a man, and whispered. "Maker... What do we do now...?"

The Black Axe took several deep breaths as he took a moment after felling the last of the assaulting soldiers. As he inhaled one last deep breath, Isador Devoured the essence of the slain, healing his wounds completely. This did not however remove the fatigue; Isador was getting tired and the day was not over. Looking back to Valas he noticed that their charge had fled during the battle. “We should not let her go off alone in her condition.” He said before following the corridor after her. He could hear a struggle echoing through the halls as the pair drew closer until the sounds were less of a fight and more of torture. Isador gripped his Axe tight in anticipation of what he would have to put down next. He heard screams and then a loud crash of some sort, then more screaming as they approached the door to the chapel. Isador did not rush in, only fools did so. Uttering a prayer under his breath, Strauss opened the door and entered the scene at hand.

The “Warden Commander” was acting hysterical, shouting at everyone, an elf and Vovin it seemed the most. She was mad, to Isador it was plain as day. He didn’t recognize the gauntlet she now wore but the look in her eyes was unmistakable; it was the same look he saw in the mirror for years. Before he could move to try to intervene Val, ominous shrieks and roars in the deep filled the chapel. No one made a sound as everyone realized what was happening. As the silence was broken by a familiar looking warrior Isador looked the window, out towards the village of Redcliffe; there were still people down there. “They’ll all be slaughtered…..” He said under his breath, looking to Valas. Isador moved towards the others, hearing Deacon losing hope and looked at all the others gathered. Everyone looked tired, by the Maker but Isador felt it. He looked to the alter of the Maker, covered in a corpse and most of its blood. He walked up to the alter, moving past Valmyria as if she weren’t even there and stood before the alter of his god desecrated with the dead. “So much blood, its intoxicating at first…letting go.” He said, turning his head to look Val dead in the eyes. “But that much blood will drown you….and everything you hold dear.” He looked back and kicked the lieutenants body aside, clearing the alter.

Closing his eyes he said a prayer for the dead and then looked back at everyone. “We all know what’s coming and it’s pretty clear that we have two options: Stay and fight or run.” He must look like a madman still he thought, covered in blood and sweat, accompanied by a shadow mage. “If these monsters escape this castle however the village below will be slaughtered down to every man, woman and child.” He said, his voice now booming with authority and conviction, his stance on the matter clear to all. “They need time to evacuate anyone still alive down there and I intend to give them as much as I can.” Likely there would be no way to hold off the darkspawn horde completely but that wouldn’t be necessary, besides the Black Axe had business in the order to be about; and he would see it finished before he fell.

Silence served the blacksmith better as the events unfolded around him, even Vovin seemed at an odd loss for words but found his tongue quickly enough. First the insanity, now the unlikely alliances being created, but now the Darkspawn attacking? Marcus Hammerstrike was a blunt man, his weapons reflected that very clearly, but he was not stupid. These creatures were not the end of it, not of Marcus was right about that tainted aura on the Teryns hand he'd brought up back at the manor. The bastard had more in stock, this was just a way to really mess everything up. I've brought to many people into a warzone, and I will not let them die here. He reflected bitterly, grabbing hold of his hammer he struck the ground with all the might he could. The resounding collision echoed off the walls to deafen out the others and drew the attention of anyone, or anything, near it. There would be maybe 5 minutes before the creatures swarmed this place to.

"Listen up. Valmyria isn't going to calm down and thats what we need right now, but first of all," Marcus' gaze fell on the mage currently serving as a healing station. "Channel whatever healing-over-time type spell you can muster and direct it at Val. She's frightened but she can't ward off magic." If he was right, she was scared and confused for someone attacking her right now. The noise he made would have startled her, but the second the magic touched she was gonna freak and escape through the window. There wasn't a lot of options, but a bloodcrazed warden seemed like a good way to fight these things. Marcus had faith she would return or be found by someone who could help her when the effects wore out.

Marcus' voice filled the room as he gave out his idea and hoped others would follow it. "Way I see it, we don't have long to escape this place. We are few and the remaining soldiers, Teryn or otherwise, are being killed off from the horde. We need to escape. We're not far from the main hall where the Arl and his loyalists are likely repelling off the horde. Lets get there, get the Arl, and pray he has a secret way outta this shithole before we're all swallowed in the aftermath of this war. We all know the Teryn, with his corrupted magic, is gonna make sure nothing leaves this place alive. Nothing." A brief scan of the room showed some unclear faces, clearly retreat didn't seem like a good option. He needed to say something to bring the rest in. "The Darkspawn flooded out of the dungeons. Lets use a side-path from the chapel here to proceed, the courtyards and open spaces favor the freaks. It's flight or die. Anyone who's with me, get healed up quickly. If you can still raise a weapon, get to a door or window. We need to be fast."

It wasn't a very good plan, and it wasn't completely sound, but it was better than waiting in a bad position till you got swarmed by the horde screaming at the doorsteps of every entrance.

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Zha'Gren

In floods they came out of the dungeon below. Swarming up the walls with filthy hands and claws, eagerly scraping to the top of the broken staircase. Some of them even looked at the loner sitting on the platform in bandages but since Zha'Gren was also a Darkspawn they all simply kept going without so much as a word, other than the screaming and hooting for blood and carnage.Perfect.The hunter took out his spear and waited for a good moment, maybe kill off a few of the things before he hit the bottom and died. Good enough plan. The idea changed when he saw a massive ogre clawing its way up, slowly but with lumbering strength. As it came closer, Zha leapt from his position to grab hold of its armor at the back of its neck and rode upwards. Other creatures had done the same as he, adding to the surprise yet to come. In the courtyard it roared its challenge, another entering a short distance away while a massive third ogre in thick plate drowned out the other cries with its own heart-stopping roar. Zha'gren added his voice to the call, a throaty and primal scream. None of the dimwitted creatures understood it was yelling a challenge at them.

The spearhead thrust through the back of the ogres neck, exploding out the front to spray its foul blood upon the cobblestones even as the weapon extended into its razor-sharp trident form. A yank and the foul creatures head fell from its shoulders with a ground shaking thud. Bloodied weapon in hand, the hunter vaulted off the falling ogre into another Darkspawn wearing golden-like armor catching it completely off its guard, skewering it through the head and riding the corpse to the cobblestones below. Already his trident had folded into the bladed staff, fully extended to each side for maximum effect. Deadly grace blossomed in the throng of the vile creatures as the hunter went into a series of wide slashing spins, his footing perfect and unfaltering even on the blood slicked stone. Each swing, either behind or infront, even on either side, caught some poor creature with devestating effect as the bloodlust took hold of its killer.

Zha'Grens eyes saw red. A fury took hold and refused to let go as the hunter swung and slashed, thrust and parried, a blade blocked in the front and an enemy skewered at his back from the opposite end of the blade staff. More than a dozen fell in the early confusion as one of their own seemingly turned against them. Suddenly the hunter leapt to the side, his staff sticking to the ground as he vaulted through the air and over the nearest hell spawn, staring hatefully at the betrayer, as it leapt from wall to wall in a rush to leave the courtyard lest he be swarmed. Zha'Gren took hold of a loose banner and swung on it, aiming for a nearby window with someone looking through it but Zha had no time to contemplate friendly human or otherwise as the banner tore and flung him through the chapel window.

A rather ungraceful landing had him staring up at Deacon Reinhardt, the human he hadn't killed. Others were inside the chapel but they seemed to have a plan of some sort, but all he'd heard was "Leave through the tunnels." Hands on his bladestaff, the hunter was in position to kill any one of them if they tried to move. His eyes finally came to rest on Valmyria, in her bloodied frenzy, and lost his breathe. Beauty in murder. "Valmyria." The hunter whispered.

Vovin was indeed at a loss for words. The Valmyria that stood before him, drenched in blood and with murder in her eyes, was not the same woman he had fought not so long ago. She also had some sort of strange gauntlet on her hand. The deadly looking black armor sent chills down Vovin's spine for reasons he could not understand. He wanted to say something to her, try to reassure her that he was no threat to her now. But the words would not come. A wounded man used him for support, but Vovin barely even acknowledged his presence, giving him a little assistance until Laenolin healed him. Finally he felt as though he could speak.

Then the sounds manifested. He had never heard such sickening cries. The noises stirred vile feelings within him, and he felt a mixture of fear and hate. He too made his way to a window, and looked upon the creatures he had only seen in books and heard stories about. Darkspawn. In that moment Vovin was sure of Valmyria's innocence. She had made no signal, no indication of summoning these creatures. On top of that, Vovin could see that they attacked indiscriminately. The Teryn had sentenced them all to death. Vovin's fists tightened until his knuckles popped and the sharp tips of his gauntlets dub into his hand. If not already obvious, treachery was something that absolutely would not go unpunished with Vovin. The Dragon Knight turned his head to Marcus, looking him dead in the eye. There was no need for words now, Marcus would see that Vovin would gladly stay and fight, or retreat to plot the Teryn's demise. Either way, those emerald eyes concealed a dragon's soul, and that dragon was rearing to tear apart any who opposed it.

It was at that moment that the window that Deacon was standing by exploded, and yielded...a Darkspawn. In a flash Vovin's sword was in his hands, but then he heard something that made him freeze where he stood. The Darkspawn had spoken, to the Warden Commander no less. With his hands shaking from restrained fury, Vovin spoke as calmly as he could. "Someone...please explain...this" He asked.

Laenolin glanced aside toward Vovin. "He is Zha'Gren... More can be explained later on when we are not...in this chaos. But a simple answer is that he is an ally." He lifted his hands after placing his staff aside, placing them together over his head. Bright light began to shimmer and shine out between his squeezed fingers, a single stream casting over each person within the chapel -- including Valmyria -- to surround them in a subtle aura of gold that slowly restored energy while also healing various wounds.

The Dalish looked around, taking note that a certain Qunari was not present. He had no time nor chance to really go out searching as he brought his hands down to his chest. The bright energy he had gathered burst forth as he pulled his hands apart, spreading out over everyone in a shimmering haze. The energy wasn't as focused and lacked the strength he had used before, but the spell boosted the physical capabilities of everyone gathered by a still considerable degree.

Health and Stamina RegenStrength, Speed, Defense Boost

{Curtyard}

Arvashok stayed close to the human Zha'Gren had been fight, his eyes slowly casting out over the quickly rising horde. He had yet to actually do battle with the creatures in such fashion. The way they poured out and just overcame everything so easily, like a force of nature. It was both disturbing and admirable. To see a military force that held to similar strengths to the Antaam, yet was composed almost entirely of the races the Qunari saw as weaker. And then seeing the few beasts that had been created from his own people. Part of him was inspired. This was something to be desired: A unified army of natural power that could overcome everything without reprieve.

"Anaan esaam Qun..." Arvashok respected the way these beasts fought as one. Fought without fear and thought only of their goal. It was a force, an enemy worthy of fighting. "Nehraa Arishok!" He stated, thankful for having been chosen to become Arvashok.

Well, things certainly escalated quickly in more ways than one. Airi had wanted to solve the issue with the commander quietly, however that was simply not possible any more. A man burst through the entrance of the chapel, announcing the presence of the warden commander for all to hear. If Deacon didn’t know that the other woman in the room was the warden commander, he did now. Airi rubbed her temple slightly, for a moment she tensed up as she felt that the newcomers may have been threats, however it became quickly apparent that this wasn’t the case. Much shouting ensued and Airi’s headache for the situation continued to grow. It appeared that Valmyria had managed to acquire several new allies throughout the course of the battle, several of the men in the chapel looked unfamiliar to the female mage. In fact she only recognized Laenolin up until the darkspawn rogue entered the room.

These people were previously working for the Teyrn and decided to defect for one reason or another… this worried Airi greatly, there was no way that she could trust these people. Things were still very tense, with the darkspawn invading the castle it would have made escape a good bit more difficult to achieve. Not to mention that if Valmyria didn’t snap out of her crazed state it would have made things even worse for the group.

“I agree that a quick escape is our best option at this point… Ensuring the safety of Valmyria and the Arl are the top priorities, I suggest we move in two groups… one to escort Valmyria out of the castle, the other to find and secure the Arl… obviously the second group has a much more difficult duty… but I think that splitting up for the time being increases our chances of at least one of them making it out alive.” Airi placed her hand upon her chest, a soft glow emanated from her palm as an odd symbol formed over her heart.

If anything the arrival of these new people served as a distraction, Valmyria’s attention was likely drawn towards those people as they each tried to calm her down in their own ways. It was now Airi’s turn to try, she reached out and gently touched the warden commander on the back of her shoulder with a glowing hand, the same symbol that was on Airi now formed itself over the commander’s heart as well. Airi gasped and nearly fell to the ground from the sudden transfer of feeling from the commander, she had barely managed to hold herself upright upon her staff as she felt a burning rage start to bubble up inside of her. But whatever Airi was feeling was but a fraction of what Val had to handle on her own before. Laenolin’s spell was certainly helping with the situation, had it not been for the other mage she probably would have already lost consciousness. At the very least Airi was able to spread some of the pain and rage into herself, lessening the burden that the commander had been bearing all on her own.

The "Warden-Commander", you could say, was staring off into the distance before the Darkspawn launched their surprise attack. She could feel them; their filth, their carnal and crazed desires. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands. She could feel them ecause of the Joining process, a carefully guarded secret in which all Wardens who survived the drinking of the mixture of lyrium and darkspawn blood were forever tainted. They could feel the presence of Darkspawn, but the spawn could sense them as well. She started to giggle about it, but the efforts of the others helped her greatly to over come her struggle. Duty though, that pounded in her head the most as she felt the darkspawn.

The feeling was enough to break her out of her bloodlust. She felt the mage's healing effects and the binding spell of Airi.

The Warden Commander stumbled back and gripped the edge of the altar when the roars started and the attack began. She closed her eyes and tried to steady herself. Val was scared, confused, and conflicted. But the elf managed to gather enough strength to punch through the cage she was in and think. She heard what the others said, and now she had to give her own two bits.

"Marcus... is right," she stammered through pain and shock. Her voice sounded much weaker than it had been before. "There are too many... hundreds, probably. We have to get out of here and now, but we have to take as many people with us as possible. Starting with the Arl and the village."

She looked up at the people in the room. Her eyes were clearer, in control, but also tired and hurt at the same time. Darkness lurked beneath them that would tell you that the madness is only going to be locked away for so long. "We can't loose the Arl of Redcliffe to this, but Redcliffe is lost. If we are going to strike back at the Teryn, we need the resources Arl Hailstrom has. He'd also know where the next safe zone is that we can gather... We need two t-teams, she was starting to loose it again. The euphoria of carnage and murder, the thrill of combat was pushing against her. "We need one team to proceed through the tunnels. It's going to be out best option at escape. I suspect that there are some darkspawn down there, but not as much as up here. Our more damaged fighters will go that way as well. We need a good chunk of people on that one to help protect the evacuees. The second team needs to be in the best shape to hold off most of the horde, but small enough that they can disengage and slip away."

Valmyria reached down and picked up the spear that had once belonged to the man she had tortured so brutally. "As Warden Commander, I'll stay behind and fight, its my duty," she said countering Airi. The wild look was starting to return to her eyes. "Agreed?" she asked to everyone.

Not really waiting for an answer, she turned and faced Zha'Ghen, a wicked smile forming on her face. "Zha. I'm going to need you to cause as much hell as possible for us, but you might have to go help them find their ways through the tunnels. I know you've been down there."

A vicious gleam sparkled in his eyes for a brief moment as the Commander gave her orders. Zha'Gren reached up to his face and took off his mask, revealing to everyone what passed for a grin. He was clearly the only one who knew about the secret entrance and exit to the Arl's little kingdom but it posed a different kind of problem. Who knew what else was down there waiting for a chance to rip apart wanderers.

Regardless, it was time to speak up. His three tongues coiled around each other to better help with translation, giving the Darkspawn an almost elvish accent. "There is a cavern in the Kings crypts below the bridge, it is connected directly through a tomb of some dead king. It used to be the lair of a Elder titan crawler, a very ancient and angry type of spider, but it was... subdued earlier." Zha's chest puffed up a little at the claim of victory over such a tremendous foe. "If you are all to escape and bring others with you, that is the place to be. The Arl will likely be holed up in his throne room near the gardens. Get there through the corridors next to the chapel, and be quick about it. I'll meet you all in the crypts. For now," The blade staff extended to its full size with a flick of his wrist, another flick and an end over end spin had the spear turned to a trident.

His three tongues disentangled and his jaw returned to a semblance of normal as the mask went back over his face. He'd done his part in telling them what to do, now it was time for something he was good at. Killing. Zha'Gren jumped up and backwards, lifting himself to the top of the trident and slid out through the window to land lightly on the cobblestones. Gone from the sight of anyone at the window.